


Take My Hand and Show Me the Way

by lostnoise



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Future Fic, Hawkins Community Pool (Stranger Things), M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Near Future, Oral Sex, Period-Typical Homophobia, Porn with Feelings, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Skinny Dipping, You’ll see, after hours at the pool, oh there’s a tag for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:54:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24488569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostnoise/pseuds/lostnoise
Summary: See, yesterday, Billy had strutted into Family Video with his aviators over his eyes and a smirk on his lips. He returned a copy ofFast Times at Ridgemont High, the copy Steve rented to him a couple days ago, and when Billy leaves, Steve opens the case and finds a note.Pretty Boy,Pool tomorrow. 9:30.Don’t be late.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 16
Kudos: 231





	Take My Hand and Show Me the Way

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imyoursandthatsitwhatever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imyoursandthatsitwhatever/gifts).



> For my good friend Aubrey, whose birthday was Friday! Happy birthday my dear! She asked for sexy times after hours at Hawkins Pool. I delivered sexy times with lots of feelings because that’s what I do. This is one of my most self-indulgent fics because I didn’t heavily edit out all the extra details like I usually do, so everyone gets the brunt of my thoughts and feelings.

Steve’s heart beats heavily in his chest as he pulls up to the almost-empty parking lot outside of Hawkins Pool. It closes promptly at 8:00, kicking people out of both the pool and the showers. He’d passed the last car on his way down the main road, Heather from the looks of it. When he gets to the pool itself, he’s the only other car besides Billy’s new one, a cherry red Firebird that’s impossible to miss. Steve parks close up to the entrance as opposed to Billy who keeps his car at the far end of the lot, away from all the other cars so no one scratches it.

See, yesterday, Billy had strutted into Family Video with his aviators over his eyes and a smirk on his lips. He returned a copy of _Fast Times at Ridgemont High_ , the copy Steve rented to him a couple days ago, and when Billy leaves, Steve opens the case and finds a note.

_Pretty Boy,_  
_Pool tomorrow. 9:30._  
_Don’t be late._

No names. Not that it mattered, because Steve ripped it up and trashed the paper after, immediately checked in the video and rewound it, restocked it with the last batch, and it was like no one was any the wiser.

And, see, Robin has been trying to teach him words to “expand his vocabulary” and he humors her because sometimes he feels real dumb and it’d be nice not to. Just, like, sometimes. So when Steve had gotten a note in Billy’s returned video case, he knows a couple words that fit. Succinct. Steve likes it even if he misspells it every single time he attempts. Discrete is another one, and he misspells that one less often, but he likes that one too. Succinct and discrete are words that describe how he and Billy communicate. It’s 1986 and it’s late June, early July, and Steve and Billy live in the middle of nowhere surrounded by bigots. They can only afford to be _succinct_ and _discrete_.

So, of course, Steve is nervous even as he turns the car off and sits for a long moment. Nervous, because it’s 1986 and they live in Hawkins, Indiana, and Robin doesn’t have to teach him words to describe the danger he knows he’s in by just being here, nor words to describe the risk he’s taking being caught with Billy. Because meeting at the Hawkins Pool, even after hours, is dangerous and risky. It’s not making out on Steve’s couch while a movie plays on the television, ignored by both of them, like _Fast Times_ the night before last. It’s not fooling around in their cars by Lovers Lake or parked out of the way at the Quarry. It’s not Billy staying the night, both of them safely tucked away in Steve’s bedroom.

Doesn’t need words to describe how exciting it feels, too - that indulgence of something he shouldn’t want, shouldn’t get to have either, _and yet here he is_.

When Steve walks up with a bag slung over his shoulder, he spots Billy smoking by the entrance, dark except for the pool lights backlighting him with a bluish, warm sort of glow. Steve’s stomach swoops _dangerously_ in his stomach at the sight of him, hair golden from the hours in the sun, the cherry of his cigarette glowing in the darkness.

Billy has that tanned skin, and he’s still vain, because he knows the scars don’t make him any less good looking. He thinks they’re badass, thinks they make him look more intimidating, tougher, _sexier_ , and like… okay, Steve totally agrees with that, because Billy _does_ look more badass and intimidating and tougher and sexier. Steve likes to trace them with his fingers and his lips, memorizing the swoops and dips and textures of them.

Billy stands there leaning against the gate to the pool, smirking knowingly at Steve’s stare, in his tiny red swim trunks and that cut-off Everlast shirt that makes Steve clench his jaw with overwhelming longing.

Steve knows that he’s a good looking guy himself, but Billy?

Billy is _gorgeous_.

Strong and masculine, yes. He lifts weights that Steve can barely move, he has these thick arms and the stupid skull tattoo that Steve finds endlessly endearing for whatever equally stupid reason. He could probably bench press Steve if he tried. He’s got alpha-male posturing down, between his ego and his personality and his body language, the way he even dresses with the boot-cut jeans and big belt buckle that screams masculinity. The obnoxious car, and the badass scars he wears like a badge of honor, which they _are_ , since Billy saved the whole fucking town. (The mayor gave Billy an award and a key to the city and they shook hands with Hopper standing there looking awkward as hell behind them, and Steve _still_ has that paper stored in a special box under his bed filled with all the things Steve dares to keep.)

But Billy also has these beautiful eyes that Steve finds himself gazing into when they’re spread out on a blanket together at the quarry and ignoring the stars they’re supposed to be watching. The long eyelashes that sweep against his cheeks, the ones Steve loves to see flutter shut when they lean in for a kiss. The little freckles that dot across his nose and cheeks. The way Billy smiles, the way he _really_ smiles, not the charismatic mask of a smile he puts on for the housewives who stare at his ass and dream about licking the chlorine from his abs or some shit. No, Steve’s talking about the smile he gives when he makes Steve giggle, or when Steve wipes the ketchup smear from the corner of his mouth when they’re eating burgers in the empty parking lot of the park in Loch Nora, or when Steve says something unintentionally deep or intelligent which doesn’t happen often but still always makes Steve feel like a million bucks.

Steve clears his throat, thankful for the dim lighting because he knows his face must be bright red. Hiking the bag a little higher over his shoulder, Steve says, “Gonna let me in, Hargrove?”

“Pool’s closed, Pretty Boy,” comes the response, followed by a small cloud of smoke blown in his direction. It should be disgusting but Steve weirdly finds it endearing. Hates himself a little for it.

“Oh? I got this note yesterday to come meet someone here,” Steve says casually, looking at his watch like he’s got anywhere else he needs to be. “Do you know who that could be?”

“Maybe.” Billy takes a final drag of his cigarette and then holds it out with two fingers to Steve. Expects him to take it.

Steve leans in, feeling so fucking bold under the cover of darkness - he’d be able to see someone coming, dark as it is, from the headlights and sound alone - and takes a drag straight from the cigarette, letting Billy hold onto it as he did does so. “Then maybe you’ll let me in?”

Billy smiles, and it’s not the fake one he gives housewives and it’s not the small secretive one he gives to Steve, but it’s something sharp and playful, something _titillating_. It makes Steve shift on his feet. “Maybe.”

They finish the cigarette chatting absently about their days at work - Steve spent his shift with Robin today, Billy with Heather; Steve had to ban three kids from the store who kept making inappropriate comments to Robin, Billy had to kick out some guy who got handsy with Heather - and when they’ve sucked it down to the filter Billy flicks it out to the parking lot, thoughtfully away from Steve’s car, then they finally head in.

Steve walks into the main area of the pool, looks around at the chairs neatly places along the edge of the concrete with detached fascination, while Billy locks the gate behind them. Steve’s never been to Hawkins Pool after hours. He hasn’t been here since his parents got the pool installed when he was thirteen. Steve remembers the pool party he had in April in Indiana, the way every person he’d invited was so stunned and impressed by the heated water, the way Steve could go for a swim whenever he wanted. Now it feels like he’s broken in or something, even though he didn’t. It’s that weird thrilling feeling, the danger and risk coalescing into _something else, something more_.

Steve knows he shouldn’t be here. But Billy shouldn’t, either. It’s after-hours at the Hawkins Pool and here they are, about to go swimming together. About to be in public together without any prying eyes. It’s a lot like a date _in public_.

Not like the ones where they take the kids to the movies to supervise and they sit a seat apart in the back row behind the kids and sneak looks back and forth all night, where their pinkies touch and curl around each other on the seat between them. Not like the nights at the diner sitting side by side on stools at the counter, putting a respectable amount of space between their bodies as they sip burnt coffee and stare straight ahead, too afraid to do more than glance at each other out of the corners of their eyes. Not like the weekends when they drive out to Indianapolis and tour through a museum with some space between them, less than they would keep back in Hawkins where everyone knows them.

Steve drops his bag on a chair and pulls his t-shirt over his head, kicks off his shoes. He looks over when Billy comes up, hair pulled into a loose ponytail to keep it all contained. Steve thinks it looks cute like that, even though he likes running his fingers through Billy’s hair, loves playing with his curls as much as Billy loves having him do so.

“All good?” Steve asks, rubbing a hand over his stomach and scratching through the hair under his navel. He watches Billy’s eyes trail down to the edge of his boxers peeking out above his jeans and can’t help the way his lips crack into a smile knowing all of Billy’s attention is on _him_ , Steve Harrington, the guy who fell out of favor in the last year of high school, the guy who was involved in the Starcourt “explosion” last year, the guy who used to be a hotshot and now… 

Now, it doesn’t even matter, because now Steve has _Billy_.

“Yeah,” Billy tells him, crowding up to press along Steve’s front, grinning in that wild sort of way that has Steve’s stomach fluttering pleasantly. He knows they’re both excited for this. “Everything’s perfect.”

Billy tilts his head up and presses their lips together in a kiss that startles Steve, because he’s just… so used to being shut in behind closed doors to do _this_. It only takes Steve a moment to relax, to kiss Billy back, to wrap his arms around Billy’s bare waist, pushes his hands up the back of Billy’s top. The kiss breaks when Billy pulls away, nudges their noses together in that affectionate gesture that always makes Steve’s heart speed up. Billy only does that when he’s really happy and feeling really affectionate, which is a rare occurrence but is becoming more common when they’re alone together.

“Get naked,” Billy instructs, the words practically barked out with how to-the-point they are. He pulls the crop top free from his body, lets it drop to the ground, and shucks those red trunks Steve likes so much before jumping into the pool.

Steve stands there gaping like a dumb fish or something and he hates Billy a little for it. He didn’t even get to ogle Billy before he submerged in the water and so Steve scrambles to drop his shorts and boxers, looking up to see Billy has since come up for air and is watching Steve intently. Sends Steve a lecherous smile. Steve smirks back, stepping deceptively to the edge of the pool before launching himself into a cannonball next to Billy. Steve surfaces laughing, not trying to stifle it like he does as Billy splutters, wiping the water from his face, but as affronted as he’s trying to look and sound, the smile pulling at his lips says otherwise.

“Dick,” Billy spits out at Steve, splashing his hand through the water in front of Steve, and Steve can only laugh harder, even as a wave of water hits him right in the face.

“Takes one to know one.”

Billy chases him around the pool, dragging Steve under the water and dunking him, Steve tackling Billy back into the water to pull him under too. They horse around like that until they’re breathless and bright-eyed. Steve can’t stop smiling, and he can’t stop looking at Billy who _also_ can’t stop smiling, even though he’s trying to hide it the way he always does - tongue pressing into his cheek, lips pursed against the way his mouth wants to curve in happiness. It’s rare that they get a moment like this, so Steve reaches out and brushes the backs of his knuckles over Billy’s cheek. Stills when Billy does, catches his eyes and feels like the moment is frozen for a long moment. It's almost like they’re both stunned that Steve can touch Billy so casually, that they can get away with this. Swimming together, playing around, touches that don’t just linger but that _stay_.

The tension, coiled tight, finally snaps and Billy reaches up to take Steve’s hand, presses his cheek to Steve’s palm in a move that is so unlike Billy when they’re out together, but so very like Billy when they’re alone, lights dim in Steve’s bedroom, the door locked and the covers pulled up to their chins.

They’ve never said the L-word, of course. Barely admit to liking each other, even when it’s just them together. It’s the way they do things with each other: truths that hit too close to _feelings_ and _emotions_ mean mumbled confessions and averted eyes, even for Steve who is usually so openly affectionate. Being with Billy has been so different than any of his other relationships.

Steve brushes his thumb over Billy’s cheekbone, feeling affection swell up inside of him. Billy kisses his palm and gives him the rare soft smile, the one that reads _contentment_ , and Steve melts. He pulls Billy’s hands over his shoulders, lets Billy wrap his arms around his neck, and he curves his arms around Billy’s middle to bring him close, their bodies flush beneath the water. And they float like that for a while, silent and smiling, just enjoying each other’s company, until Billy presses this soft, sweet kiss to Steve’s lips and Steve’s hold on Billy’s waist tightens in response.

He _loves_ Billy.

It makes the blood in his veins sing, realizing it after the last several months they’ve been doing this _thing_.

Steve breaks the kiss and leans his forehead against Billy’s. They’re stuck in this ass-backwards town, surrounded by homophobes, trying so hard to stay safe. It’s so hard for them, being here in Hawkins. 

“Let’s run away,” Billy murmurs against his cheek. 

Steve closes his eyes. “Where would we go?”

“Anywhere,” Billy says. “Everywhere. Wanna see the whole fuckin’ world with you, Pretty Boy.”

“We could go to California,” Steve hedges carefully, affecting a casual tone. He peeks his eyes open and one look at Billy has his heart fluttering in his chest.

Because Billy is looking at him like Steve put the stars in the sky and hung the moon while he was at it. Billy’s looking at him with an expression he’s never seen before. It makes Steve feel like Billy’s heart is in his eyes, and-

 _Oh_.

They’ve never said the words to each other, and maybe they never will, but Steve knows in that moment, from that look Billy gives him, that Billy loves him too. And Steve leans in, nudges his nose against Billy in a reversal of the gesture, the one Billy gives him, and Billy’s arms tighten around Steve’s shoulders.

It’s communication without words, so very _them_ , and Steve can’t think of anyone else he would rather be in love with.

“California,” Billy echoes softly, smiling. “Wanna run away to the west coast with me, Harrington?”

“You know I do, Hargrove,” Steve mumbles, rubbing one hand over Billy’s hip as he looks away the way they always do.

But Billy grabs his chin in one hand and turns Steve’s face back towards him, makes him meet Billy’s blue eyes made even bluer with the glow from the pool. “Then let’s do it.”

Steve knows Billy means it, and so he nods. He’d follow Billy anywhere. “California. We can save up this summer and just… fuck off from this stupid fucking town.”

If he and Billy were less familiar, Billy might make a joke asking, _‘Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?’_ But Steve doesn’t kiss his mother at all. Hasn’t seen her in a few months at the very least. Billy knows because he’s been over every weekend, sleeps at Steve’s house more nights than he doesn’t.

There’s not much keeping either of them there in Hawkins anymore. Ever since Starcourt last summer, when Neil Hargrove turned out to be the Mind Flayer and Billy almost _died_ saving everyone before El finally killed the fucking beast, Billy hasn’t had that huge chip on his shoulders because he’s not under his father’s thumb anymore. While Steve has Dustin, and Billy has Max and, to a lesser extent, Susan, those relationships aren’t so tenuous that moving would impact them too negatively.

They could, really, move to California if they wanted. Steve feels giddy from the thought. Billy grins this bright thing, his eyes crinkling, and Steve thinks he wants to spend the rest of his life seeing all the ways he can make Billy smile.

Steve listens to Billy talk about California, about the tiny coastal towns and the big cities and how San Francisco is probably the gayest city on earth. He talks about the color of the ocean and the way the sky turns gray, how he swears he saw a shark once and how he likes to surf. Steve soaks it all in, asks questions here and there. Billy still has friends back in Los Angeles, can make some calls soon to see if they can help Billy and Steve get set up with somewhere to crash, somewhere to _work_. Once they get out of the pool, they’re trading glances and soft touches - a hand to the small of Steve’s back, a kiss to Billy’s jaw, a shiver down both their spines - and grab their towels and bags and discarded clothes, taking everything into the locker room.

It’s when Billy turns on a shower and pushes Steve up against one of the walls of the stall that Steve finally gets to moan into Billy’s mouth and sink his fingers into that hair. Tugs the hair just at the base of Billy’s head, firm but not rough, to hear Billy keen back at him. Hot water cascades down over them in the small space and Steve feels his breath growing heavier, his heart beating faster, and he _wants_ so badly. Wants everything and anything he can get from Billy.

Steve moves his mouth to Billy’s neck but the blonde shoves his hands to Steve’s chest, pinning him to the wall, and gives him a look that sends a heated shiver down Steve’s spine. Sends a heat that makes his cock start to fill between them, and he can feel Billy’s twitching against his hip. His lips part softly when Billy doesn’t look away and presses a kiss to the center of his chest, and his mouth drops open in surprise when Billy begins to kiss his way down Steve’s body until he’s kneeling in front of Steve.

And Billy looks _so good_ on his knees for Steve, looks like everything Steve’s ever wanted in his life, looks like everything he wants for his future, too.

Steve licks his lips, pulls his lower lip into his mouth to bite at and suck on while Billy mouths the head of his dick which has been growing harder and harder since Billy first pushed him up against the wall. He slides his fingers into the wet curls atop Billy’s head, holds just a shade gentler than tight, a firm grip that doesn’t keep Billy in place but rather keeps himself grounded. Tugs again to listen to the way Billy’s breath hitches in his throat.

“Fuck,” Billy bites out below him, arching up into Steve’s hold.

Steve _sees_ the way his own dick twitches at Billy’s reaction, a pulse of desire pooling deep in his gut, and Billy must feel it because he turns his head to suck the tip of Steve’s dick into his mouth, finally wrapping those lips around his length. A hand moves to grip the base while Billy lets the tip of his tongue play at the slit, and Steve melts back into the wall, head thumping back in pleasure. They don’t really talk about what they have or haven’t done before each other - it was a little obvious from the fumbling through certain things they did together, or the way Billy can just suck him down without the kind of concentrated effort that Steve requires to do half the work.

Billy’s _good_ at this. Gets really into it, too.

And Steve likes getting head. A lot of girls have been put off by how long Steve is, how _thick_ , but Billy seems to revel in being on his knees for Steve, seems to love the weight of Steve on his tongue. Steve loves seeing the way Billy’s eyes flutter shut right before he takes more into his mouth. Loves the little moans that slip out of Billy’s throat almost as if he doesn’t even hear them himself. Can’t help the way his hips arch forward against Billy’s face. Billy doesn’t even _gag_ , just takes it deeper, and hollows his cheeks out when he pulls back to bob his mouth over the head of Steve’s dick. They’ve never done anything like this outside of Steve’s house, or in their cars parked deep in the woods near Lovers Lake or the Quarry when there aren’t any parties going on.

Steve’s so used to keeping quiet, even in his own bedroom, that all he’s doing is letting out these heavy, sighed breaths and strangled moans. Billy’s free hand presses against Steve’s hip, scratching lightly in the way that always startles noises from him, and it does so now, too, louder than usual. Looks down to see Billy letting Steve’s cock slip wetly from between his lips, pants to catch his breath with the length of it pressed to his cheek. He licks at it absently as he looks up and locks eyes with Steve.

“Wanna hear you,” Billy mumbles over Steve’s flesh, presses a wet kiss right below the head of Steve’s cock. “C’mon, got this place all to ourselves, Pretty Boy. Let me hear you.”

And Billy’s right. It’s so fucking _hot_ , being here, at the public pool where Billy works - where the frustrated housewives ogle his body, and the high school girls titter and giggle any time Billy comes out of the locker rooms, and everyone follows his directions because Billy saved a bunch of people in the “explosion” last summer and looks goddamn sexy with the scars all over him. The thing is, Steve knows the truth. Knows just how much Billy has sacrificed to be here, to be _alive_ , knows what it cost to be here with him and those scars are a testament to it.

Steve lets out a loud, long moan when Billy swirls his tongue wetly around the tip, and gets a moan in return from the man on his knees. The vibrations of the noise make Steve gasp, head thumping back again, harder this time, and it makes him hiss softly. He could have this forever and never grow tired of it. He pulls at Billy’s hair and gets another moan around him - and Billy slips his mouth down Steve’s cock to take him as deep as he can. Billy knows just the right way to swallow around his dick, throat fluttering and pulsing and making Steve whine high in his throat.

“Billy, fuck, please,” Steve finally begs, biting at his lips as he looks his fill of Billy in front of him, lips stretched tight around Steve’s cock, the head poking into the cheek as Billy pulls off to give his throat a reprieve, and the sight of it has Steve suddenly close. “Touch yourself for me, baby, _please_.”

Billy’s free hand, the one that had been clutching at Steve’s hip, flies down, curls around his own hard cock and starts stroking himself. Steve bites into his lower lip, wishing that he could be the one touching Billy right now. While Steve can’t deepthroat a dick like Billy can, he’s _real_ good with his hands.

“Shit, look at you,” Steve mumbles, panting as his hips rock in time with Billy’s mouth. He’s so fucking close.

He pushes the hair out of Billy’s face before Billy takes him deeper, strains to look up at Steve with those eyes that always get him _right there_... All it takes is a little whimper, the one Billy makes when he’s close too, when he’s just about to cum, and Steve’s pushed over the edge, vision going a little white as he lets out this high-pitched noise himself. Cums in pulses over Billy’s tongue, looks down in time to see the last of it blurt over Billy’s lips and cheek before Billy sucks the tip into his mouth. Steve’s thighs shake from overstimulation and he hisses, curls a fist tight in Billy’s hair and tugs him sharply off but holds him there for a long moment, letting Billy strain under his hold, letting him feel the slight pain of it. Just like that, Billy lets out a startled moan, the noise pulled from his chest like he’s surprised by how hard his orgasm hits. Billy fucks his dick up into his fist, groaning through each wave as he cums over his fingers and stomach.

Steve bends down somehow in the tiny space they occupy, cups his hands on either side of Billy’s jaw and kisses the cum off of his lips, pushes the little streak from his cheek into Billy’s mouth with a purposeful, gentle swipe of his thumb. His dick gives a pathetic twitch when Billy moans around his thumb, sucks at it wantonly.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the end of me, Billy Hargrove,” Steve murmurs, kissing Billy again and taking his time with it. Pulls back with a couple chaster kisses, smiles against Billy’s lips when Billy nuzzles their noses together.

“Don’t be a sap, Harrington,” Billy says gruffly in return, voice shot, and Steve lets out a shaky breath. Billy leans in to kiss Steve’s hip. “Now help me up so I can clean off.”

Steve does - he pulls Billy up from his knees, turns him around and runs his hands over Billy’s body to help him rinse off. Feels closer to Billy in this public shower than he has ever before. Maybe because he knows now the depth of his feelings for Billy, the depth of Billy’s feelings for him.

Steve lets Billy use his shampoo and conditioner, doesn’t even complain when Billy uses _so much_. By now, Steve gets that Billy’s hair takes more to maintain those curls Steve loves so much and Steve doesn’t _really_ care since it makes Billy’s hair come out so soft. Once they’re finishing up, the water’s run cold but their bodies have adapted, and they’re exchanging these soft little kisses to every inch of skin they can reach.

“You gonna follow me home?” Steve asks while they’re changing back into their clean clothes. 

Steve kind of misses the crop top Billy was wearing earlier, but the shirt he’s wearing now makes up for it. It’s one of Steve’s old shirts, and so it’s a little tight on Billy, but it’s soft and Billy says he likes to wear it, and Steve likes to see Billy in it, so it works out for both of them.

Billy leans over and kisses Steve straight on the mouth, and Steve melts a little. “I’d follow you anywhere, Pretty Boy.”

And it’s a mirror of Steve’s own thoughts, that he’d follow Billy anywhere in return. He’ll follow him all the way to California, would follow him farther if he needed to.

And Billy doesn’t say it, doesn’t say _‘I love you,’_ but Steve hears it anyway, and he doesn’t say _‘You’re my home,’_ but Steve can tell from the way Billy smiles, from the look in those blue, blue eyes.

Steve leans his forehead against Billy’s, rests a hand on the back of Billy’s neck. Whatever the future holds, Steve’s not going to let Billy face it alone. 

“How much do you think we need to save for California?” Steve asks quietly, smiling into Billy’s cheek when he hears Billy’s breath catch in his chest. Steve curls his arms around Billy’s middle and squeezes him gently. 

Billy’s his home, too. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please consider leaving a kudo or comment if you enjoyed!


End file.
